


Nelumbo Lutea

by FromAnonymousToZ



Category: Over the Garden Wall (Cartoon & Comics)
Genre: AU, Alliances, Alternate Universe - Role Reversal, Considering its the Lotus Gardener Au, Friendship, Gifts, M/M, Politics, Role Reversal, Surprisingly few lotuses, Tentative though it is, reverse au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-16
Updated: 2021-01-16
Packaged: 2021-03-14 07:20:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,348
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28791606
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FromAnonymousToZ/pseuds/FromAnonymousToZ
Summary: The Beast has fallen upon hard times, Enoch does what's only neighborly and offers his assistance.
Relationships: The Beast/Enoch (Over the Garden Wall)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 14





	Nelumbo Lutea

The babe is small, abandoned out in the snow. 

Typically, when he finds the abandoned or the lost so far from his town, he does not bother to lead them there. They usually would not survive the journey; better to grow up a tree where they fall than to sow false hopes.

He cradles it against his chest, tucking his furs about it though he can offer little solace from the cold. It is so young, so small and new. It does not know the meaning of hope, the depth of fear, nor what it means to die. 

An edelwood grown from such a seed would never put down roots deep enough to weather the winters of years to come. 

He will take it to his town, hopefully there, they can tend to it, so that it may grow to be a more useful part of his garden. 

He’s not a kind creature, nor is he a cruel one. To him, the world is a tool, mortals a means to an end. He lives for no reason but his own and guards his secrets close to his chest. 

And if he can come to an amicable arrangement with the very mortals he makes his quarry, then it is all the easier to survive. He protects them, makes the paths safe for them to walk. He ensures there is food upon every table, lets them practice their witchcraft and divination, he guards them against other creatures who are less patient, less serene. And in return, they give him their afterlives. They give him their souls, their hopes, fears, and despairs. 

An odd relationship, to be sure, but it suits their needs, and it suits his. 

Better to be guarded by the Beast than be hunted by him. 

He rocks the child in his arms, claws gentle as he picks his way through the wood. 

He is weary, Spring’s dawning has stripped most of his strength, he doesn't have the focus to simply bend the fabric of his forest to return to his town. He walks along the border between autumn and winter, the harvest a few tantalizing steps away. 

The child wails with hunger mirroring his own, and he hushes it. A lullaby spills from his lips, soft, mingling with the night air. 

His hunger is sharp and ragged. It snaps at its restraints and hollows him. It’s a cry, a wail for relief, and in the Unknown, such cries do not go long unanswered. 

The cat is an average enough thing. Its fur is the color of pitch, and its eyes like the noonday sun, its whiskers are long and wave with a twitch of its pink nose. Its ears are pricked forward, ragged at the edges. It has long black fur, and it carries its tail high as it walks. 

It walks carefully on the other side of the thin border, its eyes glittering with dangerous intelligence. 

“So hungry,” The cat tsks but does not clarify which of them he is referring to. 

“Enoch, please,” The Winter Warden says coldly. “I am weary,” 

The cat’s demeanor changes immediately, from harsh and cold to earnest all at once. 

“Are you well, Warden? You have not seemed to be in the best health as of late.”

The Warden inclines his head. 

“In truth,” He murmurs. “No,” 

The cat hums sympathetically.

“What has plagued you, Old Winter?” 

The Warden rocks the babe against his chest. 

“I’m sure you’re aware of the fire we had,” 

“Yes, blazed bright for nearly a week.” 

“It took half of my oil stores and most of the mature parts of my grove,” He murmurs softly. “I have lived on thin-” The cat shoots him a look, and he amends his statement. “thinner, rations to compensate since. And then, of course, spring came, and I am naturally weakest during the Tzar’s reign.”

“Not to mention the troubles that have been plaguing your town,” The cat adds sagely. 

“Could you not content yourself with watching the Lady of the Winds turn her back on my town? Was drought not enough? Must you have sent locusts?” The Warden asks cuttingly, but the cat shakes his head. 

“I am not responsible for such things, certainly not this season. You may thank the Tzar, though he did use my forest to gather them, rather against my will, I might add. I haven’t been responsible for any of your defectors in the last months.” 

“Pity,” The Warden attempts to sneer, but his voice is defeated. “Just what I would need.”

“I am sorry, Beast,” The cat’s voice is honest. “These past seasons have not been kind to you,” 

The Warden laughs humorlessly. 

“The last few  _ decades _ have been unkind to me, Old One. My forests grow thinner, and my reserves lower. My town, loyal though they are, cannot live on empty stomachs forever. They are resolute, but when the goose struggles, so too do the gander. I struggle to ensure there is enough food to go around in the best of years.”

The Warden fixes the cat with an eerie stare. 

“I had to plant a pup early just last week because she had taken to eating sawdust to fill her belly.”

They walk in silence for a long while. 

At last, the cat speaks. 

“If you are amenable, neighbor, would you like me to send over food? No contract nor magic involved, just food for hungry folk.” The cat offers. 

“I’ll not put myself in debt to you. I’m weak enough as it is.” 

“No debts,” The cat assures. “Just a gift, between friends,” 

The Warden glances at the cat suspiciously, hushing the babe in his arms. 

“I have no payment to give you.” He warns. 

“And I ask for none.” The cat reiterates, tail sweeping. “Only your good grace should I send Pottsfeilders to cross the border to deposit food, nothing more, nothing less, I won't cross your border.” 

“Swear to me that that is all.” The warden commands.

“I swear it.”

After a moment of consideration, the Beast nods.

The cat purrs, pleasure dripping off of him. 

“How wonderful, you must forgive me now, neighbor, I must depart.” 

“Leaving so soon?” The Beast drawls, and the cat chuckles. 

“Yes, despite what you seem to believe, it is not such a paradise on this side of the border that I need not tend to my people.” 

The Warden scoffs. 

“As if your people would ever think of rebelling.” 

“Oh, my people are as loyal as can be, but there are forests to plant, fields to tend to, seeds to be sown, and bounty to be reaped. I’m a busy creature, after all, Sower of Hope.” 

“Hm,” The Beast hums. “I suppose I shall simply have to let you go off to your tasks, Lotus Gardens,” 

“Indeed,” The cat flicks its tail. “I shall see you by the next moon.” 

“And I, you.” The Beast murmurs as he nods, and the cat peels away, retreating back into his forest. With him, the warmth on the air dissipates, leaving him in the grips of frost. The delightful smell of nectar burning into caramel dissipates, and only cold rot remains.

He clutches the babe closer to his chest and forages onward, a lullaby ripping itself from his lips, spinning up into the sky and cradling the moon. 

As he draws closer to his town, relief softens his tone, and he lapses into silence. 

And then he stops, frozen in the snow, his delicate nose scenting the air. 

Yes, there it is again. 

He takes a few careful steps forward, and the sickeningly sweet smell of nectar boiling into caramel hits his nose. 

It grows stronger still as he takes a few more steps.

Fear and concern like flames spring up in him, and he finds himself running, sprinting towards his town, towards the smell of burnt sugar. 

Surely the cat had not taken advantage of his town’s weakness, not when their alliance had been growing stronger in the face of the Lady of the Wind’s dismissiveness and the rebellion of the Tzar’s daughter. Not to mention the rising tensions between Her High Lady Noon and the cat himself. 

Panic clutches him tightly. He must see for himself, see that his town is safe, that the cat has not intruded-

Snow whips through his antlers as the north wind howls about him. 

He breaths, huffing in through his mouth as sweet smells of fruit and flowers fill his senses. 

He crosses the threshold of his town in a blind sprint, skidding to a stop in the town square, the now weeping babe cradled in his arms. 

He turns slowly. 

His town remains his own, free from the grasp of verdant forests and gilded eyes, but it is certainly not as he left it.

He gapes at it, eyes singing with surprise. On every doorstep, a wicker basket, every basket piled high with produce, fowl slaughtered at every home. There are enough apples alone to put their entire stores to shame, radishes and potatoes line the paths in burlap sacks, wheat in neatly bound sheaves, hay in bales piled high, and firewood neatly chopped and stacked. 

Evidently, he’s not the only one surprised by the miraculous appearance of so much food. Witches and pups alike stumble forward as they step onto their stoops, knocking over baskets of blueberries and spilling bags of chestnuts. 

Steaming loaves are uncovered by curious hands, still hot as if straight from the oven, pies left to cool on windowsills that had before housed only dried herbs. 

His people’s growing surprise rouses more and more of their neighbors, voices rising in a cacophony of shock and delight. He rushes through his town, down every street glancing frantically about, jars of preserves lined neatly, oranges cradled in young hands, and everywhere, flowers, lotuses, spilling out, carpeting the streets, resting at every door every window. 

In the grey light of dawn, the sheer bounty of it is staggering.

Not even a taste of magic clings to the food, all of it unbound to the Cat’s realm, all of it given without payment. 

They look to him nervously, not even seeing the babe he holds so carefully against his chest, their questions rise uncertainly, they want to know if the food is safe to eat, but they are so hungry, they cannot even bear to wait for his answer. Not that he can begrudge them such a thing, teeth eagerly piercing the skin of apples, fingers frantically ripping open the skins of oranges. 

His shock lingers as he wanders aimlessly through the streets of his town. Awe clutches him as he observes the sheer amount of plenty deposited in his town, in what? A matter of hours?

A mortal, one who held no magic, edges close enough to him to take the babe from him, ushering it away to be washed up and fed. 

After their hunger has finally been sated, there is much to do, food to move into stores, preserves to make, foul to cook. He must shake off his stupor and take his place as their guardian. He oversees the distantly, instructing here and there, blinking in the face of it. 

When dusk falls, he is exhausted, having stood in the plain light of day, steaming and melting as he watched over the proceedings. 

Lotuses still dappled the streets, they could not be eaten by his people, and they dared not take such flowers into their home. 

He staggers when he tries to walk but eventually makes his way to his border. 

“Enoch,” He rasps, and the cat answers immediately, voice far too close. 

“Greetings, Beast,” 

The Beast tilts his head down and finds the cat sitting there expectantly.

“When you offered your food, I expected… grain perhaps, not…” He gestures vaguely with a claw. The cat flicks his long dark tail.

“It was no trouble,” The cat croons, licking a stripe down one paw. 

“How did you even manage such a thing, Harvest King?”

“Many hands make for light work,” The cat purrs, ears pricked forward. The Warden stares down at the cat, eyes blazing. 

“I have no payment for you, Lotus Gardner,” He reiterates, and laughter rumbles up from the ground. It spills out from the catskin, a reminder that the cat is so much larger, so much more incomprehensible than its simple skin. 

“I ask for none, Warden,” Mischief twinkles fondly in its eyes. “You think too little of me, I would not demand from the mouse to step under my paw after a single kindness, and I will not ask of you to step into my domain. Even if” The cat’s voice takes on a longing tune. “I do hope that one day, you will do so of your own volition.” 

The Beast’s eyes narrow at the comparison. 

“So strange of a creature such as you to abandon the hunt.”

“Abandon the hunt? Never, but I’m a patient creature, and it is always so much sweeter when prey submits.”

His eyes are burning more blue than yellow, he’s afraid. He leads forward curiously.

“What on earth would possess me to submit to you?”

“Oh, curiosity perhaps. Wouldn’t you like to see how I keep my folk so occupied?” 

He scoffs at that. 

“I have no need to see your hedonistic little town. I have more than an idea of what keeps them occupied.” 

“Perhaps not curiosity then, but can you really say your hunger will not one day get the better of you? You might find yourself seeking me out for relief against its grasp.” 

The Beast hums at that, finally shouldering away the shock of the day.

“Thank you, cat.” He murmurs, and the cat gives the flick of an ear. 

“It’s no trouble, Hope Sower.” 

“I will repay you.” The Beast says. 

“You needn’t. Consider it a gift for the sake of friendship.”

“In the name of friendship,” The Beast drawls at last. “Can I interest you in a walk?” 

“In the name of friendship?” The cat hums, grinning a Cheshire grin. “Of course.” 

**Author's Note:**

> This AU has a special place in my heart now.
> 
> Have questions? Suggestions? Prompts? I'm on tumblr [Here](https://doyouknowhowtowaltz.tumblr.com/) This AU initially came from a prompt I got on my tumblr.


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